


Companion

by fightthegiants



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221b life, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, M/M, Sherlock's Hair, Sleepy Sherlock, doting john, nose kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:22:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightthegiants/pseuds/fightthegiants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year on from 'Haze' and life at 221B is the picture of domestic bliss, but are things between the detective and his doctor about to progress?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Companion

**Author's Note:**

> This (as well all my other Sherlock fics) were written just after Season 2 aired here in the UK. They were all over on fanfic.net but since I now use this as the platform for my writing, they're getting moved. Seems only right now that we're back on hiatus!
> 
> As ever, I don't own Sherlock Holmes & John Watson (they're Arthur's), I don't own this representation of them (they're Mark & Steven's) and I don't own Benedict & Martin (they're each others). I don't profit and all the other standard disclaimers.

Doctor John Hamish Watson had had somewhat of a whirlwind year. If you had seen him at this point in the previous calendar, he would have been a flurry of white coat and stethoscope, doing his daily rounds as a ward Doctor at St Bart’s hospital. However, life these days was a little more… adventurous. A chance meeting with an annoying genius had meant John’s life had undergone a radical turnaround. Within a few days of meeting Sherlock Holmes, John had moved into the spare room in the flat on Baker Street. He’d immediately fallen into Sherlock’s work with the police, giving his expert medical opinion on all the cases they were allowed in on. Numerous people had tried to warn him off and tell him to be careful but something in his gut had told him to stick with it because it felt like this was how things were meant to be. Doctor Watson now spent his time cavorting around London solving crimes and catching bad people who did bad things.

  
With that said, it was a Sunday afternoon in Baker Street and the two men could be found sitting together on the sofa. Streams of winter sun were filtering through the net curtains and John’s mug of tea was warm against the palm of his hand. He flicked absent-mindedly through one of the Sunday tabloids as Sherlock tapped away at his laptop. The Detectives feet were slung up in the Doctors lap, apparently it helped him think. Somewhere downstairs, the sound of delicate warbling could be heard as Mrs Hudson went about her weekly cleaning regime.

  
Things at 221B could sometimes be shambolic and chaotic when there was a case on but today was a day for sitting back and taking things slowly. John relished days like this, when they’d just wrapped up a particularly gruelling case and Sherlock had begun to become more than a little irritating before things were finally all sewn up and the pair could just enjoy each other’s silence.

  
Suddenly Sherlock set his laptop on the floor and stretched his long, cat like body for as far as his gangly limbs would allow before removing Johns paper from his grip. He tossed it onto the coffee table before turning in his spot on the sofa to allow his head to rest in the Doctors lap.

  
“I need to think, do that thing you do with my hair.” Sherlock demanded.

  
“What could you possibly have to think about? We wrapped up the Italian drug lord case yesterday!” John sighed reaching over Sherlock to put his mug on the table.

  
“I just need to think John… about… something. Come on!” Sherlock wasn’t quite furious but he wasn’t patient either.

  
“Fine, fine.” John sighed reaching his fingertips down into Sherlock’s thick mass of dark curls and gently began stroking his scalp. The noise Sherlock made could almost have been called a purr; he closed his eyes and steeped his fingers beneath his chin as he usually did when he was settling down to think. However before long, John could hear the Detectives breath fall in long, deep strokes. He had finally become relaxed enough to nap. Sherlock never slept when they were on a case, he said it wasted valuable thinking time so moments such as this were rare. John knew it wouldn’t be for long so he took the opportunity to lay his own head back and allow his heavy eyelids to close.

  
A shared afternoon nap was becoming a regular occurrence within the walls of Baker Street. John and Sherlock had begun to keep a rather heart-warming string of favours for each other now that they had become accustomed to living together. John would often open the bathroom door after showering to find that Sherlock had left his slippers and a warm mug of tea outside for him. In return John had got back into contact with some of his old friends from the Army and sweet-talked their pathologist friend Molly Hooper over coffee and a Danish, to supply him with body parts for Sherlock to experiment on. This had made Sherlock giddy with excitement and still even now he would wait by the front door in anticipation for the weekly delivery. On a particularly harsh winter night, Lestrade had called them out late to look over a crime scene in Whitechapel but before they had left, Sherlock had laid two fluffy towels over the warm radiator ready for when they returned home.

  
Sherlock would often take hidden glances at his Doctor; he was fond of watching John read. Sherlock noticed his eyebrows would jump then furrow as he mentally processed the dialogue or action within the story. Sherlock had even become fascinated by watching the way John did the most menial of domestic chores. Watching John make tea was Sherlock’s new favourite pastime. The regimented and orderly way John did things due to his Army training made Sherlock smile. He found himself laughing more and more after John had taken up residence in Baker Street. The Doctor would make stupid anecdotes and funny little quips which would have Sherlock smiling involuntarily.

  
John enjoyed curling his fingers around the ends of Sherlock’s hair. The soft curls melted onto his fingertips and the action was soothing. John had noticed the way Sherlock had taken to holding a handful of the soft wool of his jumpers and running circles over it with his thumb as he made deductions about people on TV. John would often catch Sherlock watching him wash up or cook and they’d share an almost affectionate glance before Sherlock’s expression hardened again and he went back to saving the world.

  
As Sherlock stirred from his brief slumber, he looked up to find John’s sleepy blue eyes looking back into his own.

  
“Welcome back.” John whispered, smiling. He was still gently running his fingers across Sherlock’s scalp.

  
“Afternoon Doctor.” Sherlock smiled back before sitting upright next to John and yawning.

  
“You only slept for an hour.”

  
“More than enough my dear Watson.” Sherlock smirked, laying his head back down onto John’s shoulder.

  
“I’ll slip you sleeping pills one of these days and you’ll get your eight hours!” John laughed, jabbing Sherlock’s side with his elbow. Sherlock chuckled back before straightening up and looking towards John.

  
“John, of late I have begun to think of you rather fondly and it has been perplexing me as to whether these feelings are reciprocated on your part?”

  
John laughed at Sherlock’s choice of formal vocabulary.

  
“Sherlock, as much as you’re an annoying dick most of the time, I like you. I like what our friendship has grown in to. I like your company.” John looked away from Sherlock’s eyes, his cheeks flushing.

  
“Excellent because I’d like it if you would consider becoming my companion?” Sherlock spoke quietly but with a serious hint to his voice.

  
John laughed and answered Sherlock’s question by leaning over and planting a small kiss on the end of the Detective’s nose before making his way to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.


End file.
